


Eightfold Paths

by ExcuseMeNo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Considerations on Trial/Raid content from a narrative standpoint, Gen, Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Soul Crystals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcuseMeNo/pseuds/ExcuseMeNo
Summary: Ryne and her two pseudo-uncles watch their dear friend fight, for the first real time.





	Eightfold Paths

**Author's Note:**

> This was brought about by my idle musings post 5.0 of how the WoL fights Primals and gods and w/e else we go after in 8 man content. This should be considered nothing more than an idle theory of what it means that we can swap soul crystals around fairly freely as opposed to, as it seems, people who dedicate their entire lives to honing a craft. I make no promises for keeping internal characters straight, but I shall do my best. The WoL in this story is a woman.

Ryne and the two men she had begun to consider family figures sat upon the observation deck of Eden. It had been a long fight to get here, on all accounts. Her own struggle to contain the vast power she could feel flowing from the massive...construct? Creature? Being, she decided within her mind, was the best way to refer to it. Urianger and Thancred’s handling of the myriad smaller internal defenses had left the two, if not fatigued, certainly desiring a small rest.

But as it always seemed to be, the brunt of the work had fallen to the Warrior. First to defeat and silence Eden Prime, guardian of the control center, and then almost mere moments later the Voidwalker, that mysterious girl that now lay in the tent back in the Empty base camp. Her victory had come, sure as the newly darkened nights, but once more none had been there to bear witness to the fight. 

What was it like, she wondered. To stand against such might as these defences, as Vauthry, as Emet-selch, as the countless titans and enemies she had heard tales of from Thancred back in the Source?.

“The summoning is complete, dear friend. The newly born Leviathan awaits. Best of luck to thee once more.”

  
  
Urianger was as eloquent as ever, she thought with a small smile. Despite all this time spent with him, she still found his wording ever so clever and poetic. The Warrior gave a small smile and nod and set off through the aetheryte, the distant twinkle deep below showing her arrival.

“Did you set it up this way on purpose?” Thancred approached from behind, looking down at the soon to be battlefield.

“Whatever dost thou mean?” Urianger had that particular coy smile on his face.

“You know damn well what it means. We’ve never seen her fight before.”

“W-well, we have. That’s not true…” She spoke up herself, her own eyes gluing themselves down at the spectacle.

“I mean yes, but we’ve never seen her fight...Primals. The fights that _mattered_ , Ryne.” His hand reached out to ruffle her hair, and she allowed it with a smile, ever-happy to know that his affections were present.

“I suppose we will, now. Right?”

“Indeed. A feast for the eyes and mind, I suspect. Our friend is ever a wonder.” Urianger had a notebook out and was setting up some sort of telescopic apparatus he had gathered from within Eden’s chambers. Ryne’s wondering on the matter stopped as Thancred gave a small grunt.

  
“She’s starting.”

* * *

The first thing Ryne noticed was the armor. Pitch black, darker than the space between the twinkling stars the Warrior had liberated from the stifling light. The sword was next to be seen, a huge slab of metal, wrought with a single gruesome purpose. Leviathan itself was a sight to behold, and judging by the murmurings between Thancred and Urianger did in fact seem different to the ‘original’ as per Urianger’s theories, but Ryne had eyes only for the being opposing it.

The armored figure leapt, savaging down with a two handed strike as red-black energy began to swirl around her. Each strike was cold and merciless and mocking, aimed with purpose to rend and tear and focus the attention of the foe to the attacker. Ryne swore she saw red glows after each swing. Then she blinked, for there were _two_ of the armored figures, the second an even darker pitch than the first, swirling energy in an afterimage of the first.

“Is that…”

“A legacy of Ishgard, I am sure.”

She dared not take her eyes off the conflict below to speak, for Leviathan was rearing back one of its heads, energy gathering that was let loose seemingly without warning. The dark figure below barely had time to raise a sort of barrier before she was slammed back, sprawling like a rag doll before catching herself to stand, bent but unbroken as the two-headed serpent slithered, waiting to see if its strike had killed its foe.

Then, it was if the world shifted. A flash of light, and where the ragged figure in midnight plate had stood was a woman of purest white, robes fluttering in Aetheric breezes as she raised a staff in supplication, wounds that had become visible as the black armor went away vanishing under the glow of aether so pure Ryne could not stop the wondrous gasp from escaping her lips.

“Seven hells!”

  
  
“What a _marvel_ she is indeed!”

Urianger, Ryne saw, was scribbling at a breakneck pace into his penbook. Thancred was clutching his chest, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted.

“Urianger what in the-”

“Silence! Once more she shifts her very core!”

Ryne’s eyes tore downward, and found Urianger spoke true. The figure of white was gone, replaced by one wearing crimson robes and a wide brimmed hat, carrying an oddly curved blade in a hunched over pose ready to draw. A second later she struck, the blade lashing out in a flurry as the Warrior dashed up and along the spine, leaping off with a final wicked arrangement of the blade through Leviathan’s leftmost eye.

The beast roared with rage, another whorl of aquatic aether congealing itself even as the Warrior skidded along, and once more Ryne saw a brief swirl of light before the beam erupted outwards. A knight of legend caught it this time, wings of light erupting outwards as a shield rose to meet it. Polar opposite to the knight that had begun the conflict, the armor gleamed silver and gold as the shield held, and as the attack faltered the hero bore not a single wound, not a single sign of injury.

“That’s the armor of a Sultansworn! When did she even have the time to-”

“She hath spent much time in many a place, as busy as we hath been in our pursuit of secrets. Is she not, in turn, entitled to hers?” The undercurrent of guilt was still present in Urianger’s voice, and Ryne resolved to have the Warrior have a candid talk with the man about self-forgiveness when she returned. _When,_ not _if,_ Ryne realized her thoughts. For there was worry but never doubt, when it came to the Warrior.

Back on the field the silver hued knight was gone, for Leviathan had withdrawn from the platform’s edge and was hovering and shrieking in frustration at the resilience of its enemy. But the Warrior was obviously not content to wait, for the transformation once more occurred, and once more a figure in robes bearing a staff stood. This time, the pitch was black, and the staff raised not in supplication but in wroth. Fire, ice and thunder each split the air, pummeling the two-headed wyrm with the fury of the elements, a glowing circle of mystic purpose at the Warrior’s feet. Leviathan thrashed in agony and anger, slamming its bulk downwards right where the mage stood, a cloud of impact obscuring her view. When the dust cleared, the entire middle of the arena was gone, and Urianger of all people gave a curse even as Ryne herself scrambled to action.

“Give me a moment! I’ll use Eden’s power, come on you stupid thing...!”

“Is she safe?! Mine eyes see her not!”

It was Thancred that breathed a sigh of relief and amusement both this time.

“She’s spent a lot of time with Yugiri as well, it seems. Look at Leviathan’s spine.”

Ryne spared the briefest moment from her attempt to force the platform to reform, and saw Thancred spoke true. Dashing once more along the ever-twisting back was yet another black-clad figure, this one twirling twin daggers in a manner Ryne was familiar with herself. The Warrior leapt in the air, hands flashing in odd signs, before burying the daggers in flesh and sliding down to the rapidly reforming central arena.

“Be careful! It’s not over yet, something’s gathering!” Her cry of warning seemed unnecessary, for even as the entire battlefield surged in a tidal wave of aether there was the now-familiar flash. In contrast to the might displayed before her, the figure was now an almost bookish sort, a globe similar to the one Urianger used floating beside her. The shield of pure energy around her however appeared suitably grand against the crashing chaos of water that surrounded her, and at last the tide abated with the Warrior unscathed, the shield vanishing as the battle lulled.

“In my wildest dreams I could not begin to imagine this is how she fought.”

Urianger suddenly burst out laughing, and pointed down as Ryne and Thancred both looked to him.

“The battle comes to a close, and what a fitting end she hath chosen for a wyrm.”

Thancred gave a chuckle as well, and Ryne once more looked to see what they spoke of.

Leviathan was obviously wounded, burns and gashes along its entire being. It coiled and howled, the wounded cries of a beast at death’s door. A woman clad in armor once more stood, a lance of darkest blue in her hands, twirling. She leapt, so high Ryne dared to think she might even reach Eden’s own wings, before at the very apex she turned, angling the spear just so to come crashing down straight through one of the heads, pinning it to the platform as the beast writhed, shrieked, and at length grew still, before bursting into its component aether. The Warrior looked up and, to Ryne’s embarrassed shock, gave a long theatrical bow. She knew!

“She knew.” Thancred echoed her thoughts.

“Her instincts are ever sharp. Mayhaps she acted as she did to giveth a performance.”

As the aetheryte flashed and the Warrior emerged, pulling the helmet off to give that perfect, confident smile, Ryne shook her thoughts away to rush forward, her two ‘uncles' close behind to wax poetic at their friend. Whatever it was, Ryne knew in her heart she would never, ever see anyone as strong as her friend.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! Really just an excuse to try and write fight scenes and also have some fun with the concept of mid-fight job swaps. I hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
